


Gregor's letter

by MissFieryHeart



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gift Fic, Gregor's POV, Margaery is a good friend to Sandor, Margaery is very persuasive, Psychotic adoration, letter writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 22:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissFieryHeart/pseuds/MissFieryHeart
Summary: Gregor’s perspective from jail, when he finds out that Joffrey had violated the most pure woman in all of Westeros (from the ‘Infamous Series Six’ of ‘Great Westerosi Bake Off’. As the president of Margaery Tyrell’s fan club, Gregor sees to it that Joffrey is thorrowly punished.Then enter Margaery (and her persuasive power) for Gregor to write a letter.





	Gregor's letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsbestosMouth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsbestosMouth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Baked](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934077) by [AsbestosMouth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsbestosMouth/pseuds/AsbestosMouth). 

> I read this fic in hopes of cleansing my palate from GoT season 8 ending and this fic was a refreshing breath of sweet puppy love and dirty puns and I loved it.  
I have NO clue of how much PC time an inmate is allowed, if any.  
In this fic (because plot), let’s just pretend they are allowed 10 minutes (every week? Month??) of computer time to check mails from family, friends, lawyers etc.
> 
> And let’s pretend the time between shooting the series and airing isn’t that long in between, otherwise it doesn’t fit with this ^^  
AsbestosMouth, I hope you like this little gift <3

  
Location: Harrenhal prison.

_More precisely, the computer room for inmates._  
  


  
The entire fan club for Margaery is huddled around the corner computer. It’s a dusty old thing but ‘Sniffer’ has done his job and hacked his way into getting the unaired video clip of what that Joffrey cunt had bragged about the first day inside these walls.  


The murder of another contestant was what it was. It happens. Gregor don’t care about one murderer from the next in here, but when that little twerp began bragging about how he unfortunately was ‘caught with his hand in the cookie jar’ before getting further... The sniggering over having his hand up Margaery’s skirt had been enough to earn him a fist to the face.  


People around whispered about ‘the Mountain that rids people of their teeth’ just remodeled the blonde cunt’s face for the foreseeable future. Punching the little weasel cooled his rage and just for good measure Gregor kicked the whiny, sniffling cunt in the ribs until the guards came running, Tasers in hand. Fuckers.  


The walls in solitary also got a few new plaster holes after his visit, since just thinking of that blonde bastard violating their precious Margaery made Gregor so boiling with rage that he had to punch something. Broken a finger or two against the concrete wall, but that was same ol’ same ol’... it helped with the burning rage, so he felt like he could breathe again. So there was that at least.  


Gregor feeling responsible (as the president of her fan club of cause), to know the extent of how this blonde bitch had hurt their Margaery - to know just how much punishment the bitchy cunt should get. After his solitary Gregor put ‘Sniffer’ on the case when they was allowed their 10 minutes inside the computer room and just 4 minutes later they had the video up on the screen.  


_“What in the Hells do you think you are doing?!?” Sandor Clegane hissed, the camera from afar zooming in and following the tall judge pushing the blonde cunt away from a clearly rattled Margaery._  


Already Gregor could feel the seething, burning rage vibrate inside him. Seeing her so rattled and nowhere near the smiling sunshine she always is, even when she visits them, the lowest scum of Westeros, in prison.  
That. Cunt. Is. Dead!  


_His little rat face sneered “I’m the ‘KING’ in my town” looking at Sandor menacingly. “And the king can do as he likes!” Sandor steeped forward, in between Margaery and Joffrey and towered over the blonde cunt with a snarl._  


When Gregor sees his little brother stands guard between the dead guy and their Margaery, something weird inside catches Gregor off guard. Perhaps he is coming down with something. The Essos flu perhaps.  


_“Well, in that case: FUCK the king” Sandor growls and then the snooty twat was sent flying back with a powerful blow to his jaw. And then all hell breaks loose. The camera rattles and falls, people running around, some screaming and others sobbing in the back ground and then the video goes dark._  


Gregor, a man of few words and even fewer emotions, stands and everyone around him cowers a little. His baby brother punching that cunt, similarly to what Gregor did before solitary... it makes that weird feeling inside act up again. Perhaps he really is coming down with something.  


Now at least they know that that rich entitled little bitch lied about just how far he came with her. Stupid of him to rattle off lies to his cell mate, who also happen to be in her fan club and in return said it to Gregor after solitude. Even if his roommate wasn’t a member, things have a way of finding its way back to Gregor in here.  


Gregor looks at the room filled up with their fan club and gives them a simple nod and then leaves. They all know he is the judge, jury and punisher in this and now they can rest easy knowing that the inmates all time Westerosi favorite girl will be avenged.  


From then on out, punishment arrives every day at breakfast, lunch and dinner... and sometimes in the showers for good measure; and this time, the guards are clever enough to wait a minute before ‘suddenly’ gets alerted of the ruckus in the dining area. The warden always balancing on a swords edge of doing his job and keeping the peace, aka keeping Gregor happy.  


After a week of this, the little twat is incensed. Like reality hasn’t kicked in yet. He spits and foams and screeching bloody murder. It’s like looking at an angry King’s Port Chihuahua... Not that he knows a lot of dog breeds, but Gregor do know that one, seeing as he drop-kicked the yapping thing into the Bay once and since got a judge on his ass about it. Apparently it was his nephew’s dog... the little ponce.  


After a few weeks of ‘justice’ though, reality of the daily punishment starts to settle in for their living, breathing punching bag and after only a month or so, the blonde prince is a sniveling mess of snot and tears. It’s justice for talking about Margaery and for violating her.  


Something itches inside his brain when he thinks of this... the memories of earlier convictions and avoided capture in other cases... but that was totally different. The thought is insistent and reminds him of a mosquito. Gregor gets easily irritated and just because of this, he punches the inmate to his right, sends him flying. Ah, that helped a little.

A year later and Series Seven is done. The ever loyal and lovely Margaery is welcomed with baked goods and looks magnificent and glowing as always. They all sit around her, with polite distance of cause, while she tells riveting tales of the season that just aired.  


Gregor nibbles on some sort of delicious bread thing, easy to swallow in a bite or two but Gregor always savors the gifts she brings. Margaery brings the light to their dark corner of Westeros and they are all grateful for her loyalty towards the scummiest thugs that isn’t worthy to even breathe the same air as her.  


She remembers each and every one of them. Learn the newest members of the fan club and always makes sure to talk to everyone. Asking them about what matters most. When it comes to Gregor, he doesn’t really have anything important in his life and the rage begins to bubble up inside him just imagining not getting a special moment with her as well.  


A soft, gentle hand is placed over his larger rough one. His eyes focus and see her sit in front of him. Her knowing smile and her eyes that care. “Hey, big guy. What’s the matter”? Something inside him tightens and hurts and it’s uncomfortable.  


This odd ‘thing’ has happened on and off ever since he watched his brother defend Margaery last year and Gregor tells her so. Moving a little further away, not willing to contaminate her with this long-term sickness that seems to have been affecting him.  


Her smirk quirks on the verge of a grin. She holds his hand firmly and tells him with that soft voice of hers “don’t worry, big guy” she leans in to not let the other inmates overhear. “I think, perhaps you were proud of him... And I personally find that... adorable”. She purrs the last word.  


She leans back again and watches him with those clever eyes. There’s a warmth to his face, like his cheeks are on fire. Weird. And a strange warmth in his chest too. He is definitely coming down with something. Margaery asks more about the video they saw, calling them naughty boys when she finds out they hacked their way to it, but winks and tells them their secret is safe with her, eyeing the guards standing near the walls.  


They don’t tell her about their justice still given daily to the now mentally unstable mess of a human being. Last year she didn’t visit the prison after the show aired like usual, because that little cunt was in here as well. It had clearly rattled their delicate flower so much so that she couldn’t be in the same vicinity, so they would carry out the justice in her name in silence.  


At the end of visiting hours, they are all full with sugary treats and baked goods. They all thank her profoundly and Margaery makes Gregor promise to think about what they talked about. To write to his brother. She had smiled brilliantly and said “it would make me so happy if you did, but it is of cause up to you, my big guy”.  


Gregor watches her leave along with the rest of the fan club, along with most of the personnel. He’s already thinking about what to write. He hasn’t a fucking clue about what, but Margaery just has that kind of effect on him. All of them really. Her own personally crime syndicate, should she ever need them inside or outside these walls.  
  
  
…  
  
  
The letter in his mailbox when he got home, made Sandor’s world turn on its axis. He tosses his keys on the table and sits down heavily on his couch, Stranger flopping onto his leg for cuddles. With shaking hands Sandor opens the letter addressed from Harrenhal Prison, prisoner G. Clegane.

  
  
****  
<strike>To Sa</strike>  
** <strike>Hello</strike>**  
<strike>** Hi Sa**</strike>  
** Sandor.**  
  
** This is weird for me to write.**  
  
** Me and the guys found a video clip from last year’s season six by accident. You know, where that little blonde bitch violated poor Margaery and - to my surprise - you stepped forward to defend her and then knocked some sense into him.**  
  
** I don’t feel much - and if you are still waiting for an apology from that time, I don’t have one cuz I feel nothing when I think about it. That said, when I saw my little brother defending our Margaery, something weird inside me reacted. I didn’t know what it was. But when Margaery came to the prison to visit us all, bringing sweet cakes and bread, she gave me a big smile and said it was because I felt proud of you.**  
  
** So there.**

**I felt proud of my little brother.**  
  
**Even writing this letter makes this weird and itching feeling less irritating, so I guess she was onto something. I guess. Margaery seems to always know us all inside out.**  
  
It’s all new to me, to talk about this shit but Margaery would be happy if I wrote and this itching feeling been bugging me for the past year so... It’s kinda like a dark room filled with nothing inside me and then suddenly has something alive and irritating tossed inside. All weird and flapping around, disturbing the quiet.  
  
Like I said. It feels weird.  
  
It gets worse when it’s older memories. Like thousands of needles poking my brain and I have to punch something to feel calm.  
  
But Margaery looked at me, touched my hand without any fear and said I should write to you, even if I didn’t know what to write, I would understand when I began writing. So I <strike>did</strike> <strike>do</strike> did.  
  
Never cared for others. Something that is true for most here in Harrenhal, besides our Margaery. With her rare visits and me being shit at writing as it is, if she asks, can you tell her from all of us that we teach that little cunt daily lessons on how he shouldn’t have touched our Margaery. Otherwise, if she don’t want to know, then stay quiet. We don’t want her upset, but I figured after her visit that perhaps she would appreciate us avenging her. I don’t know.  
  
Gregor  
  


Sandor blinks a few times and just staring blankly in front of him, letter in hand. This is the weirdest shit he has ever experienced and he was on the infamous Series Six, for crying out loud.

Somehow it doesn’t surprise Sandor one bit to not get an apology. He bloody well won’t accept one if it’s a lie anyways. However, Gregor writing how he felt proud of his little brother is completely throwing him for a loop. It’s weird to imagine Gregor even having these kinds of emotions, let alone writing it to him.

He didn’t have a clue that Margaery even did prison rounds for her fans, but off cause she does! Her aspiration is as tall as the buggering Wall, so buttering up all manner of fans in Westeros is a clever move. Sandor could imagine that all it would take was just a name said in a pouty complaint to her devoted criminal fan club and then her ‘problem’ would mysteriously vanish into thin air.

Sandor shivers. It’s a dangerous game she’s playing, but Sandor knows the female Tyrells enough by now to know they can take care of themselves. He finds it a bit amusing that Gregor thinks that perhaps Margaery is too delicate to be told that they punish Joffrey for her sake. If Sandor knows Margaery, she will gasp and show horror, but her eyes will twinkle with satisfaction. Tyrells are fucking scary.

At least now he knows why Margaery always came by to pick up a shit ton of bread for ‘some arrangement’ she attended once a year. It’s a little funny to think of his brother and the band of hardened criminals munching on cupcakes and sweet buns. Sandor snorts and shakes his head, picking up his phone and calling Margaery. Best deliver the news right away.


End file.
